Author: anthony Page 16 of 77

It’s my own fault, really.

Our e-commerce system got attacked recently and the company that runs this decided to implement a CAPTCHA on all the sites.  This is one of those where you see some characters and lines and have to type the characters in to get past it.

It’s annoying, but it can help if done well.   This one wasn’t. I didn’t see this in action until I was getting ready to launch a new and complicated e-commerce site.  I had put a lot of work into this and when I clicked the link, it went first to the CAPTCHA.

Imagine if you went to Amazon.com and had to decipher and type in some characters before you could even see a logo.  Not good.

I sent a note to our cashier’s office since they manage our local instance.  The subject was: CAPTCHA implementation = terrible

I gave an example, railed against having this as the starting page, expressed outrage at the lack of accessibility, and grumbled at how our users will think this is a mistake and lack confidence in the links.  

I wrapped up this gem of an email by asking if I could have the contact information for our rep so that I could scold them.

I have a good rapport with the folks in the cashier’s office and we appreciate the work that goes into these systems and interacting with the users.  I figured I’d get a quick note back and I could take it from there.

INSTEAD…

The cashier’s office forwarded the note to the rep directly with all my text intact – who then forwarded it to some regional rep. With my request to “scold” right there above my signature.

Uh-oh.

In a few minutes, my phone was ringing with an unknown number.  I was already on a call and I dreaded the voice-mail that was left.  And it was the regional guy looking to set up a conference call with us.

He followed up with an email, admitting this was a rushed implementation, and would like to talk to us about the situation.   The guy from the cashier’s office replied with, “Anthony is the primary on this one and can take the call, he’ll update me if needed,”

So, instead of UA vs. the e-commerce company – it’s the e-commerce company vs. well…me.

I didn’t really expect it to be quite this dark under the bus where I’ve been tossed.

And yet…

Though my language could have been more professional  – and would have been if my flippant note hadn’t been forwarded – I’m not wrong.  The CAPTCHA should have been on the payment page to do the most good and the version they are using is old tech and not accessible. I’ve got users that literally get confused if there’s more than one item to choose from – a CAPTCHA on the homepage is going to blow their minds.   

So, on Monday, someone is going to get scolded.  Might be me, might be them. My plan is to be reasonable, but firm, and express my concerns in a professional and user-advocating manner.  

And the cashier’s office?  

They are off my Christmas cookie list.

O-F-F.

A few weeks ago, I laced up a not-quite-new pair of shoes and set about my day.  By the time I could take them off, I could barely walk. I had a huge pain across the top of my right foot and the foot itself was swollen.

I blamed the shoes, swore not to wear them again, and I recovered in a couple of days of wearing other shoes.

On Monday, I had a good swim and felt all over pretty good when I went to bed.  I woke up in the middle of the night with my toes hurting a bit, but managed to ignore it and get back to sleep.

Tuesday morning, though, I was hurting.  I wore a pair of crocs and hobbled around through the day.  When it was time to go home I skipped my swim and went and bought a cane.  I didn’t think it was going to really get to a point where I wouldn’t be able to move without one, but I wanted to be ready. Fun note, the clerk at the drugstore offered to put the cane in a bag. Really.

Jim came over that evening and with a little help from the internet and some careful prodding, we deduced that one toe in particular might be broken.  He had a similar thing happen to him a while ago – a stress fracture that felt better for a while and then would hurt again. Seemingly randomly.

I think mine might have flared up from an overly forceful kick off from the wall in the pool – or sleepwalking around my house and running something.

Jim ended up going to a podiatrist who couldn’t really do anything for him except put him in a boot while it healed.  I instead elevated my foot, put some ice on it, and tried to rest it.

And I was feeling down.  Slowing down, while certainly good for me, is not a thing I do lightly.  I’m not meant to mosey.

But, mosey I did through the rest of the evening – even going so far as to use my dishwasher since Jim didn’t want me standing for that long.

Note: Yeah, I have a dishwasher.  I don’t use it – though I’ve run it empty a few times since I moved in so the seals don’t dry out.   Hand washing the dishes doesn’t seem like much of a chore to me. Anyway, the dishwasher did work and did a pretty good job.

When I went to bed last night, I elevated my foot and hoped for the best.   And when I woke up, it hardly hurt at all! Until, that is, I put weight on it.  Just about dropped to the floor.

I recovered, adjusted my gait, and took my cane with me to work just in case.   I got better through the day and while it still hurt a bit, it wasn’t nearly as bad.  

And after work, I taped a couple of toes together and hit the pool for a short swim.

It still hurts a bit and I’m not 100%, but I think I’m on the mend.  At least until I exacerbate it again.

I should, of course, go to the doctor – and I will if it doesn’t continue to get better.  Though I kinda wish medical science had advanced beyond the “Here, wear this boot for 100 days,”

So there’s my really boring injury report.  Much like a Monday, it’s been more annoying than painful.

I had a not-great day.  It wasn’t hugely bad – I didn’t get fired, arrested, or struck by a meteor (though that would have made a great story if I’d survived it) – but it wasn’t great either.  Just the usual stuff that wore me down.

I hit the pool after work and of course it was crowded.  One of the recreational swimmers offered to share his lane and I did – but he insisted on doing the backstroke and was “swimming wide”.  I scraped my knuckles on the lane divider more than once, but eventually he was done and got out. Leaving the lane to just me.

I kicked it up a notch now that I could stretch out and made some progress towards my goal for the day  – 42 laps.

At around lap 34, I saw that the woman in the lane next to me – who I could tell was a phenomenal swimmer – come to a halt mid-lane and clutched her leg.

I stopped too and swam back a bit so that I was even with her.

“You okay?” I asked, and she said she was, but was still struggling with a painful leg cramp.  Since the lifeguards were – for some reason – all the way down at the other end of the pool watching over the swim team… I decided I’d watch over her.  

I tread water and waited to see if she would recover or get need a rescue.  When she fought her way past the leg cramp and resumed her swim, I did as well.

As much as I like being focused on my swim and getting away from literally everyone else, it was important that I stop and – just for a moment – pay attention.

I hit the pool today after work and – fortified with some pre-workout oatmeal – I swam like crazy.  I plowed through 30 laps like it was nothing. Well, I was still a slowpoke compared the high school team, but I still kicked ass, dang it.

I saw a guy a couple lanes over that looked like he was struggling a bit – and also didn’t have goggles. He was still going when I got out and I stopped to his lane to try and give him my goggles – telling him that I had an extra pair at home and the chlorine was intense.  He thanked me, but declined, and I headed to the locker room to change.

From there, I headed north.  One of my friends had suggested a yoga class in the Cleveland area and though it had been a while since I’d done any yoga, I was game.

I got to the venue plenty early and followed a guy in that was carrying a yoga mat. Seemed like a safe bet.  He guided me to the third floor of the church and to the yoga room – then introduced me to one of the female instructors.

Wait, what?  

I had thought this was naked yoga and a mixed gender class seemed, welllllllll, a little odd.  I took off my shoes and the instructor gave me directions to the restroom to change.

Now, a lesser man might have panicked, but I had also brought yoga clothes in case things went off the rails.  Which they appeared to have done so. My friend had decided not to come, so I was winging it.

I got changed, got back to the yoga room, and got introduced to the other female instructor. It was then that I asked, “Where’s Dan?” – who was listed as the contact instructor on the MeetUp app.

“Oh,” she replied, “You’re here for the other yoga class.  That’s down the hall,”

I thanked her, gathered up my gear and headed to the other class – where there were 2 other male students and a male instructor waiting.

We introduced ourselves and chatted a bit while we waited for the start time and got out mats set up.

When it was clear that this was it for the class, the door was closed and we stripped down.  Each guy had his own mat and we started the class with some deep breathing. Cool, I can breath, no biggie.

Then the first half of the class had us mostly in a push-up pose and I didn’t fair so well.  My left arm, ever since the break/surgery/plates/screws is no longer a “load bearing structure” and I was hurting pretty quick.  

When we finally got to stand up, we did a bunch of poses that had our feet in a wide stance.  And the bottoms of my feet kept cramping up.

The instructor had a couple of heaters going  – which was good at the start (cause we were all naked in an old and drafty church) but soon became too much.  

We did a lot of stretching and my back is now a little sore as I write this, but I otherwise recovered in a couple of minutes.  

The class ended with the “corpse pose” where you just lie flat on your back and relax.  On literally better ground, I did fine with that too. There was a hearty round of “Namaste” from everyone and we wiped down our mats and got dressed.  

Not confident I could find my way back out, I waited until one of the guys was ready to be  my guide – then made my way to my car and headed home.

I tried my best with the yoga – doing some parts well and faltering in others.  The nudity was pretty much irrelevant – we might just as well been wearing clown costumes or the traditional yoga gear of the folks down the hall.

And I think that disappointed me a bit.  As men, we’re literally all buttoned up all day.  Holding back our emotions and feelings – and playing things close to the vest, as it were.

I had hoped that, without the buttons or vests, we could maybe get in touch with something a little deeper within ourselves. To reconnect with who we are as men without all the trappings – and use some yoga stretching as the guide.

I guess I was expecting too much.

It was a fine yoga session and I’m sure I would get better at it over time if I kept at it.  The drive to Cleveland was a bit long for as short as the session was so I may try to find a location closer.  Likely with pants.

The trip made for a good adventure, but I think I’m going to stick with swimming as my main form of exercise.

So, Namaste – and good night.

I try to listen in on the operators while they are at work in case I hear a phone call go off the rails – I can then walk across the hall and help out.

Today, I heard the only male operator currently on staff (other than me) joke with his female co-worker that his mom said that she thought he “sounded gay” on the phone.  They laughed about it and he deliberately shifted his voice to sound – at least by his ear – more gay. His co-worker said she didn’t think he sounded gay when he answered the phones and the conversation moved on.

I didn’t say anything.  I couldn’t figure out how to out myself and turn the conversation around without coming across as angry.  There wasn’t malice there, just a sort of causal stereotyping.

And I was a little ashamed at myself for feeling a small surge of pride that I’d passed – again – for being straight. As those hiding who I was should have earned me a prize.

That instinct, born from fear, to hide what I am when I can – well, it reared its ugly head again.

Many years ago, I was out to one of my co-workers and he and I were walking across campus with one of our student assistants.  The student made some mildly offensive comment about being gay and my co-worker thought it would be amusing to goad the student into digging themselves into a hole. It went on for a few minutes before I, disgusted with both of them, outed myself.

The student was mortified and I tried to downplay it.  His opinion of me didn’t matter much and again, there wasn’t real malice there.

Years earlier, when I was still all the way in the closet, I went to Vegas for a long weekend trip with my boyfriend at the time.  We got in a cab to go to a show and the driver asked if we were in town for the consumer electronics convention. My boyfriend said we were just in town for a vacation.  The driver then asked if were were visiting from San Francisco. In those few words that my boyfriend said, the cabbie had guessed – correctly – that he was gay. And by extension, so was I.  We told him we were from Ohio and the conversation ended.

It was a scary moment for me.  I usually don’t “sound” gay. With a little effort, I can pass as straight in most circumstances – though no disguise holds up to long term scrutiny and I’m certain that I’m not as successful as I think I am.

But, there I was, a long way from home and suddenly outed.  My guard went up and I raced through fight or flight plans by the dozen. It amounted to nothing, but the incident stuck with me.

Now, all those years later, I still find myself hiding when I can – because I can.

When Jim and I go out to eat, we’re likely to get seated in the bar area so we can watch “the sports”.  The hostesses, at least, are fooled.

It’s easy and it doesn’t cost much effort to not hold hands, to pass.  But there is a cost. And by letting my student assistant “get away” with his comment – no matter how innocuous – I fed right into that.

I should have gone across the hall and said something. I should have embarrassed him, even if just a little.  I should have… I don’t know. Done something, said something.

And maybe I still will.  The importance of the lesson outweighs my inclination to not bring it up.  I’ve been sitting here writing and trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.  And I guess I have it figured out enough that I’m going to take him aside and try to explain when he’s next in the office.

It doesn’t matter if he know I’m gay or not.  Except, maybe, it does. And maybe we can both learn a little.

I got my taxes done on Sunday.

I think.

I hope.

I got there early, as I usually do, and got checked in.  It must have taken the receptionist aback that I was early and she offered their drop off service.  I said “No thanks, I’m fine with waiting,”

She told me the name of the tax pro that I would be seeing – different than I’d had last year – and said he would be finished soon.  I was fine with that and sat to wait with some paper to fold.

When it got close to the appointment time, another tax pro came over and told me that my guy was just finishing up.  I thanked her and said I was really fine with waiting.

When it got to be a little past the time for my appointment and he still wasn’t done, she came back over and took me back to her office to do my taxes.   It looked like she’d been working on someone else’s and I saw far too much of their info before she got that put away.

I saw on the computer screen that had her name that she had 4 years of tax experience.

Hmmmm….

We got started and I gave her my paperwork – and then my driver’s license when she asked for it.  She commented that they had the Date of Birth on the new licenses in a strange and hard to read spot, but she got it typed in – then commented that I had a birthday coming up.

Puzzled, I told that it had just passed.  We looked at the license again and that number might have been a 4 instead of a 1 – though the full DoB was elsewhere on the license and much more readable there.

Hmmmm…

With that corrected, she starting going through the paperwork – carefully entering information onto the screens and then studying it.  And then deleting those records.

I tried to follow along and it looked like she got the interest paid and interest earned forms mixed up.  When the summary fields showed red errors and the refund was projected at $3,000 more than last year, she called another tax pro for some help.

Hmmmm…

The two of them worked through that error and she kept going – setting “completed” forms aside and then going back to them to re-enter the info.  One of the documents had a number in the wrong box and she called for some help again – they decided that it should just be skipped.

Finally got around to the refund and it was set to be about $100 less than last year – which is what I expected.  She asked if I wanted direct deposit and I handed her my open checkbook. She typed the numbers in – twice – and needed my help to correct the error that kept coming up.

Hmmmm…

I had to sign the documents electronically and then also sign them manually. Also, hmm…

With everything submitted and printed out, I went up front to pay my bill.  I have to mail in the city tax info, but the rest has been submitted online.  I got the text messages saying that the Federal and State had been accepted.

And…  I’m guessing I’ll be audited. With as much trouble as she had, I’m almost certain there was some mistake there.  The company will cover it, but holy crap, I have no confidence in my taxes this year. And since that’s a huge part of why I have them done instead of doing them myself, I’m a little wary.  I’m debating on going back and seeing someone else for a double-check.

Just in case.

———————-

We’ve got support ticket system at work that is being upgraded.  There’s some confusion at the moment since requests sent in by email are going to the old system, then manually closed (with a How Did We Do? email) and replicated in the new system by the helpdesk crew.  

The users are deeply confused and one of these tickets got to be such a mess I gave up and called the user and we then finished working it out by email.  I closed both versions of the tickets and updated my boss.

He’s been a little frustrated with the change-over as well and we talked about it for a few minutes to see how we might be able to help.  Not coming up with any solutions, I instead offered:

“It’s like Global Thermonuclear War.  The only way to win is not to play,”

Being the complete geek he is, he got the reference immediately and did a real-life Laugh Out Loud.

It’s the little things.

I had a physical and follow-up scheduled for this morning with my doctor – and one of the things he wanted to check was my blood pressure.  Last time I was in there, it was a little high and I was worried I’d have to start taking medicine for it.

The appointment was at 8:45 and I figured I’d go into work at 7 and then leave from there at 8 – making sure that the doors were opened and the switchboard was ready to go.  I got a little work done before it was time to go and when 8 rolled around, I was re-coated and ready to go.

Except, no student operator.

I went ahead and turned on the system and took a few calls, heading right towards a freak out.  If she didn’t show – what was I going to do? I had no backup.

5 after

7 after

10 after – finally, I heard the door.

She came into the office – car trouble, apparently – and I was on my way.

It had snowed just enough that I needed to scrape off my car, and then I was on my way.

Except that there were streets closed off and I had to divert.  And then I was on my way.

Onto the highway and then a dead stop.  Traffic was bumper to bumper as far as I could see.  We were then moving a little bit – about 4 miles an hour – but I was starting to ramp up the freak out.  I tried to determine alternate routes and tried to weigh stoplights and unplowed side streets verses the highway clearing.

At last, we got past the accident and back up to speed.  

Tick.

Tock.

Ahead, another accident but this was off to the side and didn’t slow us down.

Finally, the exit I needed.  I waited approximately 137 years through each of the lights on that road, and eventually reached the doctor’s office. I parked, dodged the other cars in the lot, and made it inside.

I stopped at the indicated marker in the lobby and waited about 5 minutes before the clerk looked up from her screen.

“Can I help you?” she asked, somewhat exasperated that she had to, I dunno, talk to me.  I had my cards ready, and told her my appointment information.

Once checked in, I sat down and looked at my watch.  

Five minutes to spare.

I used those 5 minutes and the next 5 minutes to settle myself down. Deep breathing, counting in binary… and then my name was called.

The nurse was a little more engaged this time and paid me an accidental compliment when she had to swap out the BP cuff for my bicep for a bigger one.  

And my blood pressure was somehow normal.  I’d also lost 4 pounds in the last 2 weeks, inadvertently.

She gave me a gown to change into and I waited for the doctor to come in.  He checked me over and said I need to watch my weight a little and keep exercising.

I got changed back into my work clothes and stopped on the way out to get some blood drawn.

And, I gotta tell you, this phlebotomist was hands-down the absolute best.  I’ve given a lot of blood and been stuck by a lot of needles and this was the least painful ever.  She should win awards – and I told her so.

A bandage on my arm and I was headed back to work.

Strange morning.

I had gotten myself really worked up, but it was pretty okay.  And for those of you playing along at home, the lump is gone and I’m right as rain.

I heard the sound of the snowblower over the weekend and knew my neighbor – with whom I share a driveway – was working on clearing a path for our cars to get out our garages.  I wasn’t really in the mood to go outside, but he does most of the work and the least I can do is help out.

I bundled up, grabbed my shovel and bucket of salt and joined him on the front lines.  He used the snowblower on our drive and the drives of the houses on either side of us – as well as the sidewalks.  I shoveled the steps and walks of these four houses and put down salt as well.

He wrapped up the snowblowing, thanked me, and headed into his house.

I finished up what I was working on and though I was cold, I figured I had enough energy left to shovel the drive of the neighbors across the street.  They also share a driveway and I figured it would be a 2 for 1 good deed.

I headed over and got started and though the snow was light there was a lot of it.  I got about ⅔ of the way done when that neighbor came outside.

He asked, “Why are you shoveling my driveway?”

“Oh, just seemed like a nice thing to do – I had time,” I replied,

“She’s not here, you know,” he said – indicating his neighbor’s house.

“Oh,” I replied, not sure why that mattered, “I just figured I could help,”

“Are you working?” he asked and I was puzzled for a moment.  Of course I was working, what did it look like I was doing? They I realized he was really asking, “was I expecting to be paid?”

“Ummm… no,” I said, “I’m Anthony, I live just across the street,”

With that he finally recognized me and remembered me – I had helped him with his computer not long after I had moved in and he learned that I was a computer guy.

He then said he could handle the drive and I said not to worry, I could finish it up.

Then he asked me if I had any experience in installing video cameras.

(cue the red flag)

Apparently, someone has been breaking into his house and garage and stealing things.  He’s reported it to the police, but they can’t do anything without catching the thief in the act.

Uh-huh.

I told him honestly that I didn’t have any experience in working with video cameras.

He persisted, saying that he had already bought the camera and just needed it set up.  I told him again that I didn’t have any experience in video and when he asked if I knew anyone I thought for a moment and told him, “not local,”

He finally said he needed to go to the store – as in, get out of my driveway so I can take my “hey kid, do you want some candy?” van out.

I worked on the sidewalks and managed to get about half the block cleared before he pulled out.  He stopped at the sidewalk, got out, and came back over to tell me that price wasn’t an issue. That is, he would be willing to pay to install the cameras.  Great.  I told him again that I didn’t have any experience in cameras. He got back in the van and drove off – clearly disappointed.

I thought about this as I finished up the drive.

1. This is not the first time he’s asked me about this.  The last time was about 2 years ago and I told him the same thing – no experience.  Now, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t do it. I would read the directions and hit up google/youtube for anything I didn’t understand.  The point is, I wouldn’t be doing anything he couldn’t do. And if he’s been sitting on a camera for over 2 years and still hasn’t even tried – well, red flag there.

2. I cannot imagine anyone looking at his house, his van, and his truck in the street with a perpetual flat time and think “I need to break in there and steal some cool shit”   Nope – red flag.

3. He had dropped off his laptop to have me re-install the operating system.  When I was done, you couldn’t tell I’d done anything. Zero personalizations.  I mean, you’ve got to work at it to not change something. Nothing – like he’d never fired it up. I don’t know what the point of it was unless he was testing.  Red flag. Side note: he was also really into a Russian Anti-virus software – which has now turned out to (big surprise) be riddled with spyware.

4. I worked my butt off on that driveway and my back is still hurting today.  And not a thank-you. Red flag. That’s not why I did it, but who doesn’t say thank you?

So, that’s it for me and the neighbor across the street.  I’ll still help the nice lady that shares a drive with him, but I’ve had my fill of him. We were both disappointed in the other and I think that’s a good stopping point.

Over the past weekend, I was pretty much snowed in.  My car isn’t great in snow and I decided that I would just stay home.  But not always inside – there was snow to be shoveled. I share a driveway with my neighbor and he was out with the snow blower.  So, I grabbed my shovel and went out to clear the steps of my house and his – as well as the walkways in the front and back. When I saw him head down the sidewalk and do the driveways of the houses on either side of our houses, I went along and cleared their steps and paths as well.  Then I put down salt for all four houses.

My neighbor really appreciated the help and I think our other neighbors did too.  We repeated this a couple more times over the weekend to try and manage the snow – and I did an additional round with the shovel to clear the “lake effect” snow.

It… was a lot of work.

Though the roads were mostly unplowed on my route to work today, I managed to find a path that was mostly downhill – and where it was uphill, I was able to get a “running start”.

Then after work, I decided to hit the pool and work off some stress.  Except, the traffic leaving campus and right around campus was terrible.  Gridlock, in some places. Every route I tried was nearly impassable. Then I remembered a street just past the mcdonald’s on Market street that would take me over to Carroll – and from there, it would be a direct shot over to the Rec Center.

Except, that street hadn’t been plowed.   At. All.

I was already committed when I realized my folly.  I got about a quarter way down the street and then slid to a stop.  I tried backing up, going forward, gearing down, I got out and pushed from the front and the back.  Nothing.

I was about ready to call for roadside assistance though my insurance and settle in for a long wait when a sensible 4-wheel drive vehicle pulled up behind me.  A guy got out, said he lived just down the street, and that he would go get a shovel. He was back in a few minutes and helped shovel the snow around my car. We tried pushing and clearing several times and at one point I asked if I could just borrow his shovel since I didn’t want to keep him.

He wouldn’t hear it and we kept working on it.  Finally, a little progress and I tried to drive forward again while he pushed.  Another guy came up and pushed too and I finally got enough momentum to get off the street and into the cleared parking lot of a drugstore.  I parked, then hurried back down the street to his house. I jogged up and said he was a lifesaver for helping me out. I shook his hand in thanks and he gave me his name.

“I’m Anthony,” he said as he pulled his hand back.  I started, then smiled even wider.

“So am I,” I said and his smile widened too.

Suddenly brothers, I offered a fist-bump that he returned and I thanked him again as I headed back to my car.

I skipped the swim entirely and just headed home with a longer, but safer route..   

Jim offered to drive tonight to get dinner and while I waiting for him and his all-wheel drive car, I noted my neighbor across the street was shoveling her drive.  I went and got my shovel to help her out – saying my ride was on the way, but that I’d do what I could. We worked for a bit until Jim got there and I tossed my shovel in a snowbank at my house.

When we got back, she was still working on the drive.  So, I said goodbye to Jim, got my shovel again, and went back over.  She and I worked for a while to clear the rest of the snow and when we were done she said she was going to buy me a cape since I kept coming to her rescue.  

I was a little out of breath when I went inside, but glad that I was able to help.

So, I’m a little skeptical of karma.  

But, if it’s real, that wheel was turning today.

And I’m keeping my shovel handy.

A couple days ago, I found a lump.  A very small and solid mass on the right side of my groin.  It’s painful when I put pressure on it and it’s right where the elastic of my Speedos hits me.  So, I didn’t know if the Speedo caused it – some kind of irritation – or if I noticed it because the Speedo was pressing on it.

I figured it was just some kind of irritation or ingrown hair – and if it had been on my arm or something I would have dismissed it with, “Eh, I got a bump, whatev”

But, well… it was just worrying enough to send me to the doctor.  It had been awhile since I’d been in to see my primary care doctor and the practice where he worked had been absorbed into the Cleveland Clinic.  They had also moved locations and so this was my first trip to the new office.

I called the new 800 number to make the appointment and was on hold for quite a while.  It took a while to bring up my info and still longer to get to the doctor’s appointments – but they were able to get me in pretty quickly.

I left work early today and went over. The check in staff were a little terse – even when I had my info ready and answered everything clearly and promptly. I waited a while and then a very dispassionate nurse took me back.  All the walls were white and the corridors were sterile and bland. The room was undecorated – a far cry from the perhaps over-decorated, but fun, offices they used to have.

The nurse took my vitals and was on her way with a brisk, but uninterested, efficiency.

When my doctor finally came, there was some confusion since I was being flagged as a “new” patient.  Once we got past that, though, the visit was fine. I described what was going on and he put on some gloves and checked it out.  And as I stood up to remove my pants he joked, “Okay, show me the goods,” – which helped put me at ease a bit.

And it’s not a big deal.  I’ve got a small cyst – most likely a minor skin infection or an ingrown hair – and he thinks a course of antibiotics will likely clear it up.  If not – and we’ll know more in two weeks – then surgery is an option. Though not a good one, based on the location. He also warned me not to try and pop or mess with it it, saying, “You’ll regret it,”

He led me back, noting that everything was white and it could be hard to find the exit. I remarked that there weren’t any landmarks. I made a follow up appointment with the decidedly-unfriendly front desk staff and I was on my way to pick my prescription.

So, I’m okay and I’m still happy with my doctor, but the rest of experience had me feeling like Patient #23761987